Sirs, take your places and be vigilant.
If any noise or soldier you perceive
Near to the walls, by some apparent sign
Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.
Sergeant, you shall. [Exit SERGEANT]
Thus are poor servitors,
When others sleep upon their quiet beds,
Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.
Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and forces,
with scaling-ladders; their drums beating a dead march
Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,
By whose approach the regions of Artois,
Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to us,
This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
Having all day carous'd and banqueted;
Embrace we then this opportunity,
As fitting best to quittance their deceit,
Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery.
Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame,
Despairing of his own arm's fortitude,
To join with witches and the help of hell!
Traitors have never other company.
But what's that Pucelle whom they term so pure?
Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame?
Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal,
Make us partakers of a little gain
That now our loss might be ten times so much?
Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?
At all times will you have my power alike?
Sleeping or waking, must I still prevail
Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?
Improvident soldiers! Had your watch been good
This sudden mischief never could have fall'n.
Duke of Alencon, this was your default
That, being captain of the watch to-night,
Did look no better to that weighty charge.
Had all your quarters been as safely kept
As that whereof I had the government,
We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd.
And, for myself, most part of all this night,
Within her quarter and mine own precinct
I was employ'd in passing to and fro
About relieving of the sentinels.
Then how or which way should they first break in?
Question, my lords, no further of the case,
How or which way; 'tis sure they found some place
But weakly guarded, where the breach was made.
And now there rests no other shift but this
To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd,
And lay new platforms to endamage them.
Alarum. Enter an ENGLISH SOLDIER, crying
'A Talbot! A Talbot!' They fly, leaving their
I'll be so bold to take what they have left.
The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword;
For I have loaden me with many spoils,
Using no other weapon but his name.